The Thirteenth Step
by MidnightWhisper7
Summary: A series of thirteen drabbles centering around Saïx of Organization XIII. Darkness themed. Updated Oct 27.
1. Shy away, phantom

**The Thirteenth Step**

**By MidnightWhisper7

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**A/N: **These are a series of theme-based drabbles centered around Saïx. They were originally posted by me on the Kingdom XIII Community on Livejournal. Each chapter will be a separate drabble, and there will be thirteen total. The title of this collection, The Thirteenth Step, comes from the name of an album by A Perfect Circle. The whole CD fits the feel of these drabbles, and since there will be thirteen I thought it would be appropriate.

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**I. Shy away, phantom**

The mirror was an elegant object, of a time and place long forgotten by the inhabitants of Radiant Garden. Its surface was dull with years of dust and debris, clustered between odds-and-ends and old indicipherable documents. Saïx lifted it to better get at the papers beneath, careful not to shatter the glass any more than it was already. Delicate cracks ran across its silver plane like pale spider webs. He traced them with his finger -- a black widow scuttling along in search of prey -- leaving a smooth trail in the dust.

He nearly discarded it in search of the important reports that Xemnas had sent him here to find, but paused, and bent down to peer through the window made by the line of his finger. An eye was watching him. It was narrow and glowing golden, with a small pupil, dark and endless. It was looking at him! He leaned closer, strands of hair spilling against the surface like indigo dye. He lifted a hand and wiped the rest of the dust away. A face stared back at him, eyes surprised and mouth slightly open. He shut his mouth, and the other face mirrored his action. Then the image in the mirror smirked back at him as he realized it was his own reflection. How foolish he was. That was the mirror's trick, reflecting the light of its surroundings and casting it back to its subjects eyes. He had never seen his reflection.

He scrutinized his face carefully. Blue hair, once inky black, long in front and cut untidily short in the back -- slashes of his broadsword -- framing his face, eyes that had once reflected the color of the night sky, turned Heartless gold with years dwelling the path between darkness and light, and twin scars criss-crossing the bridge of his nose (he could feel _this_). He stared into the mirror, through it, past it, and saw dim flickering silhouettes in the corners of his mind. He clutched his forehead, bent over the mirror and eyes shut tight against the reflection. But the images continued, pushing past years of living bordering on nothing.

The moon on a starless night. Colorful orbs dancing across a map of calculations. The sound of water (falling _up_). Moonlight-yellow, shadow whispers, glowing heart-shaped light rising from his chest as they pulled him under, falling-_makeitstop_-nothing but darkness... Empty and cold. Waking up to find rain against his face and a hollow nothingness in his chest. Anger (fake), rage (not real), tearing into himself so the pain told him he wasn't dead --

The mirror crashed into the far wall as he flung it away, wooden frame splintering like a spine against concrete, sharp moonlight-thin shards scattering in a broken web on the floor. The glass, continuing to reflect his dark profile, crunched under the heel of his boots as he stamped them even further into nonexistence. Some things, he decided, were better left forgotten. It was no use trying to make amends to the dead.

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	2. Bogeyman

**II. **Bogeyman

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Blue eyes peeked peneath pale blonde bangs as she watched him from under her long delicate lashes. The sky-sapphire eyes were obscured again as she lowered her head, unable to meet the harsh golden fire of his gaze.

"Yes?"

Strong dark-gloved fingers traced against her fragile jawline (so easy to snap) as he lifted her chin to look at him. He liked her eyes; they were so expressive, so full of _emotion_ for a Nobody, betraying her every thought to his observation. Right now they were a mix of fear and a tiny bit of (oh yes, now this he enjoyed) anger. Frantic for a target other than the unyielding Heartless eyes. They settled instead on the zipper at the neckline of his coat, a safe enough distance but still giving him her attention.

"It's just..." She faltered for a moment, feather-light voice getting lost in her quick flurry of breath. He withdrew his hand and her shoulders relaxed a little -- just a little. "You don't have to look after me every night, if you don't want to."

He smiled -- sharp white razors behind thin cruel lips -- and tucked the covers in around her body. "The Superior is relying on me to keep his precious white princess safe." He stopped to brush aside the strands of hair that fell across her forehead, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight, only opening them when he had moved on to get her stuffed rabbit from the floor where it had fallen the night before. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to our little memory witch." She snatched it with quick pale fingers from his grasp, hugging the fluffy animal to her chest. She was like a rabbit, he decided, meek and submissive and afraid, and he was a cat, a wild cat, with a cold hungry gaze and a particular fondness of toying with his prey.

She snuggled up with her rabbit, and he turned off the lamp beside her bed. A star-shaped nightlight glowed in the corner, out of place in the world of darkness. He was pleased with the faint shudder of breath she released as he suddenly leaned close like a ghost in the dark, long tendrils of hair brushing her cheek. Cold lips brushed against her ear, and he could feel her shaking beneath his touch. His voice was the slightest of whispers, a faint breath against her skin.

"Sweet dreams, my pet." He drew away and headed towards the door, stopping to look back at the pale porcelain doll nestled in the white cotton sheets.

A chuckle escaped his lips as he gave her one last fleeting piece of advice.

"Don't let the bogeyman get you."

The nightlight shuddered feebly and blinked into darkness.

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I don't want to give the impression that I think Saïx is a pedophile (although he _is_ creepy). He just strikes me as the type of person who enjoys toying with people's thoughts and fears, and Naminé seems to me like someone who would beintimidated a close physical presence. That's the impression I got when I saw how she interacted with Marluxia in COM. And I also thought she might be afraid of the dark.This drabble was partly inspired by the scene where Saïx catches Kairi and Naminé after they escape from the dungeon. Kairi looks surprised and a little scared, but Naminé's face shows actual hatred, the first time I've ever seen her look angry in either game.

It's also inspired by a song called "Pet" by A Perfect Circle, which gave me the idea of the "bogeyman." It's appropriately creepy for Saïx, and so this demonic little plot bunny demanded to be written.


	3. Bleed for me

**III. Bleed for me**

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**"I hate you," she tells him, but her voice is numb and distant, as though he is not standing before her. He watches her dispassionately, observing her calmness in spite of her fate. Some subjects react better than others when they become a Nobody. She is doing remarkably well. He is surprised; he would not have expected it. 

"I trusted you," she says, and now she is pacing, looking smaller than ever beneath the leather coat. Her eyes are half-lidded, paler than they once were. She seems lost, uncertain, without her emotions to guide her. She had thrived on those frivolous things too much; sorrow, joy, anger--such things merely distracted the mind from its true purpose. "I didn't want any of this!" He had come into her life, a strange and wonderful entity when her life seemed bleak and dull. He had seduced her with words of wisdom and power, spun tales of castles and fantastic powers. She'd given in so easily; it was almost a disappointment.

"I gave you nothing more than you asked for," he says, golden eyes calm, face unmoved. She stops, turning to him, and she's glaring, her face losing its pale frailty.

"You said I wouldn't have to be afraid anymore," she says, and he knows she's going to start screaming. Not that it will matter anyway. "You said that you would give me power."

"You aren't afraid," he points out. She opens her mouth, can't think of what to say, clenches her fists. He remembers the way she laughed at the end, when she embraced the darkness with arms open and a laugh upon her lips.

"I didn't think it would hurt this much," she says.

"You were foolish and naïve. Now you can be free," he says, but she shakes her head.

"I would rather be dead than be alive without feeling," she says, and turns her face toward the sky. The rain hits her skin, shimmering, falling across her eyelids and he remembers when she first kissed him, in the rain, and he'd played his part and felt nothing. He feels nothing now.

"I feel the rain," she says. "I used to love to listen to it at night with the window open. I used to love the thunderstorms. Now it gives me nothing," she says, her voice bitter.

"This is your reality now. You'll have to get used to it," he says. He narrows his eyes, and his expression becomes more stern. "It is frivolous to pretend otherwise."

"You're a bastard, you know that?" she asks, crossing her arms and putting all her effort into glaring at him.

"Yes," he says, and walks away into the City that Never Was. He's leaving her for the second time. She's screaming but he doesn't hear her.

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Maybe part of the reason Larxene was so messed up was because she was "initiated" by Saïx. I think that some of the Nobodies would have freely chosen darkness; that's my take on it anyway. 


End file.
